


Growing Pains

by Apriel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Belly Rubs, Chubby Scott Lang, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Gentleness, Married Life, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Scott Lang Needs a Hug, Self-Esteem Issues, Tenderness, Weight Gain, Weight Issues, light feederism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-15 06:49:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20862014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apriel/pseuds/Apriel
Summary: Scott has some difficulty getting into his suit and realises he's gained weight over the past few years, fortunately Hope is there to fix things~





	Growing Pains

**Author's Note:**

> a commission for dracoaries ♡

“Scott, are you ready?” Hope calls up the stairs. “Bruce needs us at the lab pronto!” she reminds him, standing on the landing with her hands on her hips.

She is already wearing her suit and has been patiently waiting for over ten minutes now. Bruce obviously isn’t the type to take issue when things aren’t perfectly on time, but Hope _is_, and she can’t think what’s keeping her partner.

“Scott if you’re not ready in the next—” she stops when she hears the faintest semblance of a sniffle, and all her impatience melts away at the thought of something having upset Scott.

She promptly makes her way upstairs, and pushes the ajar door open further; smiling sympathetically when she finds her little hero slumped on the bed with his suit pulled only as high as his waist, his belly rather prominently hanging over it.

“Honey,” she says softly with a smile and a tilt of her head. “What’s the problem?”

Scott glances at her, cheeks flushed as he sniffles and dabs his nose with the back of his hand.

“I can’t get into my suit,” he confesses with a whimper.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Hope croons. “Here, let me help you.”

Scott accepts her hand in getting to his feet and huffs a little as he tries to hold in his belly.

“Atta’ boy,” Hope encourages as she attempts to zip him up.

She gets about an _inch_ further than he did, but inevitably he can’t hold his breath nearly enough to make his stomach completely flat, and the zip can’t progress any further.

“Sorry,” Scott needlessly apologises, breathing out and letting his tummy surge forward to weigh heavily over the straining zipper.

“It’s okay, honey, one more try,” Hope suggests, taking a firm hold on the tab as Scott sucks in again and this time uses his hands to hold his belly in as well.

With great resistance, Hope is able to get the zipper up, but the second Scott exhales, the material visibly begins to strain, and the chubby hero shoots her a nervous look.

“I think that’ll hold for now, big guy,” she heartens, giving his belly a little scratch. “C’mon, we’d better get to the lab. Bruce is waiting.”

Scott nods and follows, but he can’t help wincing every time his movements make the skin‑tight fabric pinch his soft body and chafe in places he’d _really_ hate to develop a rash.

Hope catches him trying to tug the material away from his thighs and belly as he struggles to the van, but she says nothing. At this point it’s admittedly a little bit amusing, or so she thinks, until Scott clambers into the passenger seat and the sheer _strain_ on the fabric causes the zipper to split apart from his belly button to his chest.

“Oh, _god!_” Scott despairs, hanging his head in his hands. “I look like a goddamn Teletubby!”

“Oh, honey,” Hope sighs, biting her lip to try not to laugh at his rather astute observation. “Here, let’s just take it off. I’m sure Bruce doesn’t really need you in your suit for today, I’ll go get you some clothes and you can change when we get there.”

Scott nods, saying nothing for the whole ride there. He isn’t the type to become easily embarrassed, but even for a happy‑go‑lucky guy like him, it can’t feel good being reminded that his body has changed with age.

Hope helps him out of the van once they arrive at the Avenger’s compound, and Scott immediately goes to get changed while Hope and Bruce discuss their plans for the new technology they’ve been working on.

She can’t help noticing that despite his hard‑work, Scott is much quieter today, and again, he has little else to say on the drive home.

He slumps upstairs to take a long shower when they get back. Hope doesn’t want to bother him too much, but once he’s out of the bathroom she hovers a little at the bottom of the stairs to be sure there’s no more crying.

The sniffling is audible anyway, not matter how quiet Scott probably thinks he’s being.

“Scott, sweetheart,” she announces herself when she’s stood outside their room.

She hears a slightly choked squeak and a bit of shuffling around, as if he’s trying to find something to cover himself with before he finally answers with a stuttered, “yes?”

“Scott,” Hope says again, head tilted in that understanding way as she enters and smiles warmly at him. “What were you doing?”

Scott looks a little put‑out as he hangs his head and mumbles something.

“What?” Hope patiently replies, stepping closer to the point where she’s able to gently rub his arms.

“I was… looking at myself in the mirror,” Scott repeats a little louder. “I… I’m fat, Hope,” he whimpers, bringing an arm up to press into his eyes to prevent the tears.

“Oh, _sweetheart_,” Hope croons, embracing him as he lets go and begins to cry on her shoulder.

“I‑I’m sorry,” he hiccups, “I’m sorry I got fat, Hope!”

“No, no, no, honey, no,” Hope tuts, stroking the back of his head lovingly. “You don’t have to apologise for that. You _never_ have to apologise for something like that, Scott. No to _anyone_,” she asserts. “Your body is your business.”

“But it’s _not_ just my business,” Scott sniffles. “W‑when we… when—in bed I…” he sighs tremulously, trying to compose himself. “I don’t want you to be turned off by the way I look.”

Hope gently caressing a tear‑stained cheek and lifts his chin so that she can convince him to meet her gaze.

“I love you, Scott. And there is nothing about your body I don’t love, either.”

Scott manages a small smile. When it’s just him mulling things over, it’s all too easy to convince himself that his fears are true and that his insecurities should be in charge, but then a few kind words from Hope can chase them all back.

She wouldn’t lie to him, either. He knows _that _above _all _else. Heck, her brutal honestly was one of the first things he fell for about her.

Hope was never shy to criticise the things about him that were lacking at first, and maybe back then she was truly just being hard on him, but Scott doesn’t doubt that Hope would still tell him the truth now, too.

So he can trust that if she says she loves him; if she says she loves his body, even like this, then she means it. The only liar here is his self‑doubt.

“C’mon, cutie,” Hope smiles, kissing his forehead tenderly, “dinner’s already out.”

Scott huffs a watery chuckle, wiping away the last of his tears. “Do you really think I should be eating anything else after what I did to my suit?”

“Absolutely I do,” Hope winks back at him, “superheroes need to keep their strength up!”

Scott laughs at that, his cheeks full and pink at the prospect of still being considered her hero.

“C’mon, I made your favourite,” she encourages, heading downstairs and prompting Scott to follow hot on her tail.

Hope has gone all out to try and cheer him up, it seems. The table is laid _bountiful _with all the components to make some mean tacos, and Scott smiles, reminded of how much he loves her.

“Dig in,” she says, taking her seat opposite him after setting their drinks down.

Scott doesn’t need to be told twice. It’s been a tough day, and now that he has the time to think about other things, he realises he really is _starving_.

“Oh god,” he huffs through his first mouthful. “It’s _so _good.”

Hope chuckles, taking her time to assemble her own taco as Scott is already licking sour cream off his fingers and reaching for a second shell.

“Atta’ boy,” she murmurs her approval, making the size‑changing hero pause for a moment and then smirk at her.

“Huh…_ I_ see what’s going on,” he drawls.

“Oh?” Hope answers, feigning obliviousness as she adds some lettuce to her creation.

“You’re just try’na keep fed up, aren’t you?” Scott deduces, pushing almost two thirds of a taco into his mouth in one go.

If he guessed it, Hope wouldn’t deny that she enjoys seeing Scott eat.

There’s nothing particularly conniving about it; she’d never want to make him uncomfortable or put his health at risk, and she’d never force anything on him… it just so happens that Scott has a healthy appetite and she _likes_ to see him show it off.

“Well, can you blame a girl?” she parries, bringing her chair a little closer to his and leaning over the table to swipe a stray dollop of salsa off the corner of Scott’s mouth before offering it to him.

Scott narrows his eyes, his lips quirking into a knowing smile as he leans to meet her and takes her finger into his mouth, purposely making a lot of noise as he sucks the sauce off, _just _to try and wind her up.

Hope chuckles, her nose crinkling in that cute way as she retracts her hand.

“You gunna’ show me what that big belly can do, little guy?” she then teases, pushing the plate of taco shells toward Scott…

What starts out as him just eating as noisily and obnoxiously as possible is quick to devolve into having Hope feed him, and then _that _devolves even further into a surprisingly seductive session of Scott trying to support his straining belly as he accepts Hope’s fingers, all covered in marinade, into his mouth and sucks on them.

He suspects he went into a food coma for a little while after his seventh taco.

They retire to bed once Scott can at least move again, and when they are settled down, he begins to lull comfortably with Hope in his arms.

She lovingly pats his full belly after a little while of gently rubbing, and kisses his jaw to rouse him, laughing sweetly when he snores and blinks himself into consciousness.

“I was just thinking,” she mentions, “I can get Hank to make adjustments to your suit for you, sweetheart… it really doesn’t matter, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Scott agrees, making that confessionary face as his gaze joins her hand on his belly. “Guess I just had a bit of a senior moment,” he concludes.

“A senior moment,” Hope echoes with a chuckle in her voice. “You’re not quite there _yet_, honey… your body is just different now… but there’s nothing bad about that and you’ve nothing to be ashamed of,” she says sincerely, gently running her fingers through his soft hair.

Scott nods without saying a word. It’s nice just to listen to Hope and hear these words of reassurance, especially when Scott would never dare let himself off so easily.

“You work hard… it’s okay to enjoy things that make you happy.”

“Even if they make me fat, too?” Scott jokes.

“Yup. Even if they make you as soft outside as you are inside,” she grins, rubbing his belly lovingly. “My sweet man… you have no idea the good things you deserve… I wish you’d be kinder with yourself.”

Scott doesn’t quite know what it is about those specific words, but his eyes well a little bit hearing them.

He _has_ worked his ass of for years. Even when he was in prison the only thing on his mind was finding work when he got out so that he could support Cassie.

But now that he’s in a position where all of those stresses have been removed, and he has Hope to support him, it feels like he is _finally_ free to stop working himself into the ground and enjoy his life. If the odd taco or extra helping at breakfast is part of how he does that, then who’s to tell him no? 

Hope certainly wouldn’t, he thinks, smiling as he admires his beautiful wife with her head on his chest and her hand still gently rubbing his tummy.

“I love you,” he murmurs, stroking her hair.

She responds at first just by shifting her head to his shoulder so that she can see him better, looking into his eyes for a moment before kissing him.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”


End file.
